Broken
by VampChick818
Summary: Edward has left Bella and she needs to find a way to deal with her pain


**Disclaimer – I do not own any of the characters from twilight. That privilege goes to Stephenie Meyer.**

When Edward leaves Bella has to find a surfactant way to deal with her grief.

I sat out the front of our house, Charlies and mine, and I use the word house not home because it isn't a home to me. It is an empty shell that I live in. Charlie makes an effort to make it welcoming, warm and loving like a home should be, but it makes no difference.

As I sat in my prehistoric truck, the tears started streaming down my face. A wave of despair was crushing me, drowning me from inside myself. I gasped and wrapped my arms around myself, trying to stop myself from ripping in two. My breathing was ragged, strained. At that moment the pain was too much and I had to do something about it before it engulfed me completely.

I climbed out of the truck cab and slammed the door, watching the rust flakes flutter to the ground and settle on the asphalt. I walked up the path to the porch. I fumbled with my keys in the door. Once inside I hung up my jacket up and made my way upstairs to my bedroom.

My bedroom looked as though no-one lived in it.

My bed was made, clothes away. My cd player was stashed in my wardrobe with the few CD I had left and my books, for I had no interest in reading anymore. There were no photos in my room anymore; I couldn't handle seeing the smiling faces of my mother, father, friends and most of all myself. I was unable to deal with the unbearable gut wrenching pain they caused.

I crossed the room and opened the draw next to my bed and pulled out the small black container. I made my way to the tiny bathroom I shared with Charlie.

I stood in front of the mirror and examined the pale, sallow face of the stranger staring back at me. Her eyes were dead, hollow looking things. There was no colour in her cheeks. She looked very thin, as though she had not been eating properly. She was empty.

I opened the small black container and picked up the tiny silver blade inside. I knew if I were to cut my wrists someone was bound to notice and Charlie wound ship me off to some hospital or back to Phoenix. I shuddered at the thought of leaving Forks.

I slipped off my long sleeved shirt so that the top of my left arm was exposed. I sucked in a deep breath and raised the blade to my bare skin. I closed my eyes and moved the blade in a swift slashing motion across my pale skin.

There was the lush tearing of my skin and I gasped, dropping the blade, as the warm liquid ran over my fingers and down my arm.

The physical pain was a temper distraction from the emotional torment that haunted me.

It gave me an odd sense of satisfaction to see my blood, the blood that had so many problems in the past gushing out of my arm and down the drain. It seemed ironic to me and a hysterical giggle escaped my lips.

I was starting to feel lightheaded now and as much as I tried to ignore the scent of the blood it still made me feel queasy. I wasn't over the sickness it caused me and my stomach was churning.

I bundled some toilet paper up and pressed it to my wound to stop the flow of blood from my arm.

Also I had to clean up the mess before Charlie came home or he would flip.

The toilet paper was soaked in minutes. I tossed it into the toilet and piled more onto my arm. My vision was blurred and my head was swimming. I gripped the edge of the sink for support as I washed away the evidence of what I'd been doing. I placed the blade back into its container and surveyed the room. It was spotless.

I sunk down to the floor, curled up in a loose fetal position and let the memories flood back.

_Him _and I lying side by side in _his _meadow. The Prom. The party at their house. The paper slicing my finger. The single drop of blood that had driven Jasper wild with thirst. Carlisle stitching me up. Esme, not breathing as she cleaned my blood off the floor with bleach. Our last conversation in the forest.

The tears were streaming again. Only now I couldn't feel the emotional torture that usually accompanied these memories. The physical pain was too great. The stinging and burning of my arm was hard to ignore.

_It will be as if I never existed.._

_His_ last words to me echoed in my head. I laughed bitterly. What a stupid thing to promise me. No matter how much pain it caused me I would never forget the few short months we had spent together.

The flow of blood from my arm had almost stopped now. I shoved those memories into the back of my mind.

I decided to take a shower and wash the dried blood off me. I was still woozy and lightheaded so I sat on the shower floor and let the warm water wash over me.

"Bells?" There was a soft tapping on the door. Charlie was home.

"Yeah dad I'm in here" I crocked and cleared my throat "I'll be out in a minute"


End file.
